The Time I Declared Martial Law in South America
On the drive back from the broadcasting station, I turned to Isabella, who had her hands on the wheel.
"Who should we appoint as Martial Law Commander? Is there someone already agreed upon?"
If declaring martial law was Step A, then appointing a Martial Law Commander and marching troops into Libertad to keep the peace was Step B. Step C was identifying the terrorists' backers and punishing them once order had been restored. Step D closed it out: hold an election and hand over power.
Step E? Step E had nothing to do with me.
By then I'd already be long gone—back in Korea.
I'd figured that once I skipped town for Korea, it wouldn't matter to me whether San Marcos burned or not—
"Before we appoint a Martial Law Commander, we must first assemble a military force that will stand with you, Acting President."
"Uh...?"
What was she talking about now?
"Why?"
"Because... in a situation like this, a coup d'état would hardly be surprising."
"...You've got to be kidding me."
They say your IQ spikes when your survival instinct kicks in. I understood what Isabella meant in a single heartbeat.
San Marcos had spent more than fifty years under a dictator. For its people, dictatorship was as natural as oxygen. The dictator was dead, so of course the generals would try to seize power. A good number of the officers in the current military brass had almost certainly come down with a bad case of Is it my turn this time?
And historically speaking, a head of state who failed to stop a coup never came to a pleasant end.
Which raised a problem.
Who was the head of state in this situation?
It's me.
If this goes wrong, I'm going to prison...!
And they wouldn't even have to look hard for a reason. The sole surviving cabinet member from the explosion just happened to be a foreigner? You couldn't ask for a more convenient terrorism suspect if you tried.
In the end, there was only one answer. Follow Isabella's advice and throw everything I had into surviving this crisis.
"Th-then which army do we need to bring over to our side?"
She must have sensed my resolve, because her advice came out measured and careful.
"We must bring the armored division stationed near Libertad over to our side. If we succeed, the remaining generals will not dare entertain other ideas."
"The armored division is enough?"
"The San Marcos Army totals thirty-five thousand troops, comprising two infantry divisions, one artillery brigade, and one armored division. However, the only unit that possesses a significant number of tanks and military helicopters is the armored division."
"Ah... then that should do it."
Well, you couldn't exactly throw a bunch of marines at a tank locked in siege mode.
"But will the armored division commander even take our side?"
"No."
"No?"
Then what was the point of bringing it up?
"However, I believe the probability of seizing control of the armored division is more than sufficient."
"I'm sorry? If the division commander isn't with us, then how..."
"Major General Tiago, the armored division commander, has been a loyalist of President Juan for many years."
"So we play on that loyalty and talk him into joining us—"
"No. The single greatest threat to us at this moment is Major General Tiago himself. Becoming a man like President Juan has been his dream for a very long time."
"......"
"We must persuade Brigade Commander Pedro, not Division Commander Tiago. He commands the core fighting strength of the armored division, and he has long been a man who yearns for the reform of San Marcos. If we handle him well, he may well stand with you, Acting President."
"Even if we persuade Brigade Commander Pedro, doesn't that become useless as long as the division commander is still in place?"
"The moment we have him, we arrest Major General Tiago on charges of insurrection."
In other words, to stop a coup, we had to stage a coup.
"...That doesn't sound easy."
"Even so, we must succeed. If only to prevent a civil war in San Marcos."
"All right. Then we'll head back to the residence first and contact Brigade Commander Pedro—"
Isabella's eyes, still fixed on the road, caught fire.
"No. Brigade Commander Pedro is not the kind of man one can persuade over the telephone. What is more, Major General Tiago is almost certainly keeping the division's field-grade officers under airtight surveillance as we speak."
"Then what?"
"We will have to go in person."
"You just said Division Commander Tiago has ambitions of his own. If I show up there now, he'll try to grab me and kill me, won't he?"
Isabella nodded.
"Your country has a saying, I believe. To catch a tiger, you must enter the tiger's den."
"...So I have to walk in there with my life on the line and persuade Brigade Commander Pedro?"
"No. I will persuade Brigade Commander Pedro. While I do so, Acting President, you will meet with Division Commander Tiago and stall for time."
"And if the persuasion fails... what happens to me?"
"I will do my utmost."
"There are things that don't work out even when you do your utmost."
"Then I will do even more than my utmost."
"No, that's not—don't you have a backup plan for if this falls apart?"
"I have a plan to do still more than even more than my utmost."
Looking at her, I understood.
This woman has no exit strategy...!
Emergency or not, this was insane. I'd rather swim the length of the Caribbean the way that Korean endurance swimmer once crossed the Korea Strait. Who in their right mind would walk into that place?
"Isabella. Stop the car. Right now."
"I cannot."
"Hurry up!"
"I will not stop."
"If we go in there, I could actually die, you know that?"
"Do not worry. If it comes to that, I will die as well. At least the journey will not be a lonely one."
"No."
What was she, a drowning ghost? Trying to drag me down with her?
"And..."
Isabella jerked her chin toward the windshield.
"We have already arrived."
A massive sign painted with those words rolled out to greet me.
The identity check started the moment we arrived. The instant the soldiers confirmed that the Acting President and the Chief of Staff were in the car, they snapped off salutes—and then promptly began what looked less like an escort than surveillance.
Flanked by soldiers, we entered the division headquarters. A long corridor, several flights of stairs, and then the division commander's office, where the massive Major General Tiago heaved himself to his feet to receive us.
"Welcome."
He wasn't particularly tall, but the man had to weigh 260 pounds if he weighed an ounce. When he came over and clapped me on the shoulder, a dull ache bloomed through the muscle.
"To lose His Excellency President Juan... what a wretched day this is!"
The voice sounded grief-stricken. But it wasn't going to fool a man who, in high school, had delivered a genuinely outstanding performance as Servant Number Three in Romeo and Juliet.
He's acting.
His eyes were crying. His mouth was smiling.
I arranged my face into something I hoped looked composed.
"I understand how you feel, General. But... this is not the time for grief. We have to move, and we have to move now, if we're going to get the country through this crisis."
"I understand."
He nodded.
"Could you ask everyone else to step out for a moment? This is a matter of some importance. I'd like a private word with you, Division Commander."
"Of course. All of you, out."
"The conversation won't leak through the door, will it?"
"It might, at that. Have them wait on another floor entirely."
The aides saluted and withdrew. The moment the two of us were alone, Tiago settled himself into the seat of honor on the sofa as if it had always belonged to him, sinking deep into the cushions.
"Well now, Eugene. Or is it 'Acting President Eugene' these days?"
There was not a single gram of the grief from a moment ago left in his voice.
And there it is. The real face, right on cue.
Isabella had better pull this off with Pedro. The thought that I might actually die if she didn't sent my heart plunging all the way down to the soles of my feet.
"So. What did you want to talk about?"
But what choice did I have? I was already inside the tiger's den. If I didn't keep my wits about me, I was going to get eaten.
All right. You're doing this. You can do this!
I looked Tiago dead in the eye with the same resolve Zhang Fei must have felt, standing alone on Changban Bridge against Cao Cao's entire army.
And then—
"Please spare me."
I dropped to my knees, radiating an aura of absolute intensity.
"......"
Tiago's face was a study in bewilderment. For the crowning touch, I crawled toward him on my knees with the most dignified bearing I could still pretend to have.
"I'm terrified."
"T-terrified? I have no idea what you're talking about all of a sudden."
"You think I can't read a room? I came here knowing full well that the generals are on the verge of launching a coup."
"Hrm... well, that's as may be, but... this is rather sudden. I'm not sure what to make of it."
"I'll do anything if you just let me live. If you want the acting presidency, I'll hand it over and disappear overseas."
"No, I don't even want that much... Look, this is embarrassing. Sit down."
I sat on the sofa and started pouring it out.
"What would I know about any of this? I only came to San Marcos because President Juan offered me a job, and I served as a minister. That's all. I don't want power. You know that, don't you, General? You've seen I have no interest in it."
"Ahem. Well, I suppose I've never heard any rumors of you gathering a faction."
"Honestly, I came here because they said they'd give me a job. Ian completely played me."
"For someone who got played, you sure worked awfully hard."
"I was getting a salary. I couldn't exactly half-ass it, could I? You have to earn what you're paid."
"An admirable attitude for a public servant. I think I understand now why the late His Excellency entrusted you with a ministry."
"A lot of good that does me, with this whole mess on our hands."
I looked up at Tiago—who had the build of a WWE wrestler more than a soldier—with the most pitiful eyes I could manage.
"...Which is why I wanted to ask. Do you have any intention of becoming president?"
"Ahem! Hrk! Mmm."
Don't act shy now. This was the man who'd put the entire division on combat alert the second he heard the news.
"If that's what you want, I'll back you, General."
"Back me? How, exactly?"
"First, I'll install you as Martial Law Commander. You do the job, and then at the right moment we hold an election and you become president."
"If we hold an election, other candidates will run, won't they?"
"As you know, San Marcos has only one television network—the public broadcaster, SMBC. Your face will be on it all day long. What's there to worry about?"
"Ahem. People seem to use smartphones quite a bit these days, though."
"I'll shut down the cellular networks for the duration of martial law. By election day, the public won't even know the other candidates' names."
"...You're a more ruthless man than I took you for."
"Please think of me as a pitiful human being who will do anything to stay alive."
"It's a solid idea, I'll give you that. I suppose that's what you get when Ian brings in a prodigy. You can always tell when someone's had an education."
"Heh heh heh. You're too kind."
"But you know."
The laughter drained out of Tiago's eyes.
"Why don't I just arrest you and take the presidency myself?"
"......"
"Once you hold an election, you have to keep holding them. Like His Excellency Juan, I want to be president for life. What do you think of that?"
"The public backlash won't be trivial."
"The people are no better than dogs and pigs. They'll bark for a while and then shut up."
The line sounded uncomfortably familiar. Tiago reached to his waist and drew a pistol.
"Don't worry too much. I'll drag the trial out a bit and wrap it up with a deportation."
"......"
Not a chance. If you didn't want to take the heat yourself, you needed someone else to take it for you—that was a law of nature as old as politics. He was going to pin the bombing on me and make me the terrorist. Obviously.
Damn it.
Tiago flicked off the safety and leveled the gun at me.
"Well? What do you think of my idea?"
I was sitting there swallowing hard when the USB I'd brought out of the Presidential Palace flashed through my mind.
If this works...?
The mind of a man who had once been an actor did what it did best. A story for getting out of this assembled itself in my head.
"Wait! Look at this first."
I pulled the case containing the USB from my jacket and held it up.
"...And what is that?"
"A USB that His Excellency President Juan entrusted to me, with a full accounting of a billion-dollar slush fund. The password is in my head."
"And I'm supposed to believe that?"
"Think about it. Even if I was his son's friend, why would His Excellency give a cabinet post to a foreigner? To leave me with something like this."
"That... actually tracks."
"You'll need this money if you want to seize power. So what's it going to be? Let me go and take the slush fund—or arrest me and lose it forever?"
"I'll just take it from you."
Blinded by the money, Tiago came stomping toward me. I wasn't about to sit still. I vaulted the sofa and put it between us.
"This USB is useless by itself. You need the password to withdraw anything from the Panama bank account."
"You think I can't open that mouth of yours? One round with a club in a basement cell and you won't last a minute. Drop the act."
He wasn't wrong. I hadn't been through any special training. If they dragged me to a cell and started in with the torture, I wouldn't last.
But stalling was the only way I was walking out of here alive. There wasn't another option.
"Come any closer and I smash this USB."
"Go ahead and smash it. The account numbers are in that head of yours. I'll squeeze those out along with the password."
"This USB also contains the documents required to make a withdrawal. Without them, that slush fund is gone forever."
"You little—!"
The performance was good enough that Tiago lunged at me. He was so enormously fat that I had no trouble keeping the sofa between us and slipping his every approach.
"I-I'm really going to smash it!"
"Smash it and you die too!"
He had my psychology read perfectly. He kept coming, that massive body crashing forward again and again.
"I'm serious, I'll do it!"
"Hah... hah! Hand it... over already!"
I darted this way and that—bolting for the door, veering toward the window, playing keep-away with the sofa between us. He was chasing a billion dollars (a bluff, but still), and I was chasing survival. We tore around that office like Tom and Jerry, without a second's pause.
Isabella, please, I'm begging you...
We'd been at it for maybe ten minutes when Tiago, apparently sick of the whole thing, tried to step up onto the sofa and vault over it.
"Nngh!"
But that colossal body of his betrayed him. His planting foot sank deep into the cushion, and instead of clearing the sofa, his leg caught on the backrest. He went down headfirst.
Crack.
The sound of something breaking.
"Ghk..."
Tiago's neck folded at an angle no neck was meant to fold. The light went out of his eyes.
"What the fuck."